A Tall Order
by exheab
Summary: For dorkickassmeadowes. Cophine 'one is too short to reach a can of soup at the supermarket' au. (Orphan Black fic)
1. Chapter 1

**A Tall Order **

**aka 'one is too short to reach a can of soup at the supermarket au'  
>Part 1.<strong>

Written for dorkickassmeadowes.  
>(I do not own Orphan Black or any of its characters.)<p>

The first time it happens, it's kind of humiliating.

Cosima's height has never been too much of a bother to her; she's not exactly one for sports like basketball and she's generally okay to go on any roller coaster she likes. And labs don't have height restrictions.

Supermarkets, however, are more of a problem.

She is particular about very few things, a person making the most out of whatever lot she's been left with in life, but somehow... _soup_ is her downfall. Oddly. When she explains it to Sarah and Alison, as they both wear the same mirrored look of bemusement, amusement and disdain, she clarifies to them that only a particular brand of soup will satisfy the munchies so perfectly. And it's easy to cook. Especially for person more skilled with test tubes and slides than her two hob cooker in her apartment.

So, on her weekly shop to the only place that stocks the brand in a 50 mile radius, Cosima encounters a problem.

In the latest store refurb, her soup has been relocated to the top shelf. This presents a problem for Cosima who, adverse to wearing shoes, let alone heels, stands just short (no pun intended) of reaching the cans in their new resting place.

After struggling, fingers brushing the corrugated sides of the tins, for at least three minutes, another body brushes up against her and plucks a can from the shelf.

Cosima can smell perfume, light and sweet, intoxicating in the nicest sense of the word, but she looks up, the woman's face is obscured by blonde curls. And then she turns to look at Cosima, offering the can to her, deep brown eyes fixing on hers, and she feels like her breath has been taken away for a second. Stuck for an apparently infinitesimal moment between regressing into her gangly, nervous high school self, stuttering while trying to talk to a pretty girl, and her present, relaxed and chilled demeanour (helped along with copious amounts of pot, it must be noted), she takes a breath.

"Is this what you wanted?" The woman asks, smiling at her. Cosima notes the woman's accent and blinks in surprise. In an attempt to fluster her completely, fate has apparently decided not just send a gorgeous woman her way, but a gorgeous _French _woman. A wide smile breaks across her face as she takes the can.

"Uh, totes. That's uh, like, super brilliant, thank you." Her other hand flutters, rising and falling with her prosody, as she looks down to place the can in her basket.

"I am glad." The woman smiles. "Do you need help with anything else?" She asks and Cosima thinks _yes, yes, yes._

"Uh, no, I think I'm pretty much set thanks." She replies, ignoring the voice inside her head.

"Okay." The woman says, returning her gaze to Cosima's face and smiling.

"Thank you again, though, that was hella-"

"You do not need to thank me. Call it my, uh, one good deed, yes?" The woman replies, cutting her off, wafting a hand genially before turning away to go about her business.

Cosima stands, slightly breathless, letting a self-deprecating, knowing smile dance across her lips. _Dammit, Niehaus, pull yourself together._


	2. Chapter 2

**A Tall Order**

**aka 'one is too short to reach a can of soup at the supermarket au'  
>Part 2.<strong>

Written for dorkickassmeadowes.  
>(I do not own Orphan Black or any of its characters.)<p>

The second time it happens it's just a little inconvenient.

Having been holed up in her lab for the best part of a week with her latest genome sequencing project, she gets back to her apartment to realise that there is nothing that constitutes a meal there. Unless you count half a chocolate bar, a chunk of cheese and a biscuit as dinner, which she supposes she would, under most circumstances. Either way, she knows it won't satisfy the munchies (she is _dying_ for a spliff) and sets off to the store.

She promptly finds herself in the same situation as last time; straining to reach the cans. She stretches herself taller, swearing under her breath, but to no avail.

"Having a little trouble there?" A voice asks, and Cosima's brain immediately associates it with understated perfume and golden curls. She turns to see the woman smiling at her.

She rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly and smiles back. "They should make these shelves shorter."

The woman chuckles. "Perhaps I should get you a step ladder."

"But then you wouldn't have the joy of getting my soup for me."

The woman considers for a second. "Hmmm. True."

She strides to where Cosima is standing and again brushes up against her to retrieve the can. _Is it_ _intentional_? Cosima wonders.There's at least half a foot on either side of her that she could stand in and still reach the top, but she seems intent on entering into Cosima's space. She feels the woman's jumper brush against the exposed skin of her side, below her crop top, and shivers. The woman hands over the soup, then pauses.

"Are you not freezing?" She asks, surveying Cosima's attire, a crop top, a skirt with thin tights and a long, thin cardigan draped over her slender frame. "It's autumn."

"Hmmm, I'm alright. Unless you wanted to buy me coffee to warm me up?"

"Shouldn't you buy me the coffee, since I am being so very charitable?"

"Hmmm… I suppose so. Is that a yes?" Cosima bumps her glasses up her nose.

"Maybe another time." The woman smiles apologetically, then pauses. "I did not get your name."

"Oh, uh, Cosima."

"Delphine. Enchantée"

"Uh. Enchantée."


	3. Chapter 3

**A Tall Order**

**aka 'one is too short to reach a can of soup at the supermarket au'  
>Part 3.<strong>

Written for dorkickassmeadowes.  
>(I do not own Orphan Black or any of its characters.)<p>

_I apologise for the long wait and the short chapter – so have two instead._

The third time, she is actually kind of looking forward to it.

She always seems to come up behind her. Like a gorgeous, blonde-haired ninja.

She can almost hear Sarah in her head; raising her eyebrows in incredulity at her_: Oh, jeez, Niehaus._  
><em>(She doesn't even give herself a chance to ponder why Sarah had become the voice of her conscience. That in itself is worrying.)<em>

"Âllo."

"Hey."

Delphine picks a can from the stack as a matter of habit and leans to put it in Cosima's basket.

"Do you ever buy anything healthy?" She asks, surveying the pop tarts, Lucky Charms and the bottle of wine the lie in the basket. Cosima shrugs light-heartedly.

"Sometimes." She pauses, looking into Delphine's basket. "It's not like you're a health nut either."

"Yes, but at least I have vegetables." She replies.

"Vegetables are for squares." Cosima winks at her.

"Oh, really?" Delphine challenges, teasingly, moving closer to her. Cosima feels a breath catch in her throat.

"Uh huh, yeah, totally."

"I shall have to remember that." She pulls back and starts to walk away. "À bientôt, Cosima."

"Uh, yeah, bye."

Cosima stands for a second, absently twirling a dread, and wonders how her week is slowly restructuring itself on the off chance she might bump into her again.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Tall Order**

**aka 'one is too short to reach a can of soup at the supermarket au'  
>Part 4.<strong>

Written for dorkickassmeadowes.  
>(I do not own Orphan Black or any of its characters.)<p>

The fourth time, the aisle is empty. Cosima walks up to the shelf as something catches her eye. A can of soup sits on the shelf at eye-level, with a post-it note attached.

It reads, in cursive hand: '_Sorry, I had to run. Delphine x'_

Cosima beams at the note, before her eyes flick up self-consciously, and looks around the deserted supermarket to make sure that nobody is looking at her as a wide grin creeps up her face.

She pulls a pen from her top pocket and scribbles a note on the back of the post-it.

'_Thanks, square ;) – Cosima'_

The next day, she passes the store on her way to the lab. She can't help herself. She walks directly to the shelf, picking the note off. A reply had been written underneath her message. One word.

'_Brat.'_


End file.
